I Drive Safer With You In The Car
by Chloe Lorena
Summary: Spoby fic, post season two. Based off S2E11 car scene, but after Toby had come back and A had been unmasked.


"Thanks for the ride."

"You know it's no trouble."

"I just don't like other cars..." I mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"I just feel... safer in this car." My eyes flicked up to catch his gaze, and I smiled, kind of embarrassed that I had just said that. Toby didn't seem to mind; his eyes, that incredible blue colour, were smiling down at me.

"I drive safer when you're in the car."

I should be used to hearing him say things like that, but I swear, every time I do it gives me the same feeling. The same rush of blood to my face, the heavy feeling in my chest and the dizziness in my head. And the desperation takes over. The desperation to kiss him, to feel his lips and touch his skin and have him touch my back the way I love.

This time was no different. My face felt hot, I lost control over my hands but I knew they were going to his face, my eyes closed as I absorbed the feeling of being loved as I leaned in to kiss him.

Toby's hand at my back was warm, but his mouth was hot.

The more he kissed me, the more desperate I became to get closer. An infinite loop of need and desperation. His hands were in my hair, a routine that I loved, so much so that it had infected my daily life. Whenever I found myself missing him or felt anxious, I would stroke the tips of my hair. I only noticed I was doing it when, at the end of the summer, he commented on it.

"That's new." He said, after we all came back after the events of That Night.

"What is?"

"That hair thing..." He made a cute gesture to his head, as though he was twirling it around his finger.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, haven't you noticed?" He stood up off the chair, walked over to me and sat on the bed next to me. I looked down at my hand which was feeding a strand of hair through some fingers.

I could definitely see why I'd picked up the habit whilst he was gone. I loved the feeling of his hands in my hair. Well, I liked the feeling of his hands everywhere, but when they were in my hair he moaned and would move them down my back and down my arms. I guess I just loved that he did that first, because it meant he would be putting them other places next. Kind of hand foreplay, I guess.

And there they went, his fingertips brushing my cheek, going down my neck and my shoulders, touching light enough that it reminded me of dipping toes into water, to see how it felt. He was tentative at first, but when my hands went to the back of his neck and down his shoulder, his hands moved down to my waist, pulling me closer. _Not close enough._

I felt like my desire was taking over my whole body, making my brain fuzzy and my skin tingle and hot. My chest felt tight and I couldn't sit still. I missed that feeling, the adrenaline rush that just took hold of me whenever he kissed me. As we grew emotionally closer and closer, the rush would get stronger, the more time we spent together the harder it was to stop. Even though a part of me knew we were in his car, the OCD, perfectionist part of me, the larger part of me didn't care, just wanted to keep kissing him, almost as though my sanity depended on it.

When I climbed onto his lap, my chest pressed against him, he groaned and for a second I though I'd hurt him. But when he whispered my name, "Spencer", in that voice he used only for me, and pulled my hips closer to his, I knew I hadn't. My lips went down his neck, and I cracked my eyes open long enough to see his closed and his head tipped up to allow me better access. When I started to unbutton his shirt, his hands were in my hair again and I wanted to crawl under his skin, be closer to him than anyone had been to anyone ever. This beautiful man, who had protected me, loved me, supported me and known me better than I had imagined. I stopped kissing his collarbone and closed my eyes, my hands resting lightly on his chest.

"Are you okay?" He panted.

I breathed him in, kissed him lightly on the bared shoulder I had cunningly exposed and tangled my fingers in his.

"Thank you," I said into his shoulder. It wasn't good enough; I brought my eyes up to his. I could barely keep my eyes open, my gaze focused, I was so hot and still felt the need I had felt earlier. But I forced myself, just like he had forced himself to pretend he didn't love me. I almost lost my head when his eyes showed the same need I had felt, but I was determined. Story of my life.

"Thank you, for forgiving me, knowing that what I was doing wasn't what I wanted. I love that you knew how I was feeling even if my words contradicted it."

"You did the same for me."

"I did?"

"Yes. I followed my instincts, I felt there was something else going on, and so did you. When I was accused of killing Allison. You only spoke to me a few times and you were convinced I was innocent."

"Yes, but I pushed you away, I lied-''

He interrupted me. "It wasn't you. I felt it. Just like you did when you knew what it was like to be framed. You felt something was off and was determined to find out what it was." He smiled and half laughed. "We're both stubborn. It's something I love about you, that you don't stop until you get answers. Like a dog with a bone."

I laughed and feigned offence. "I'm like a dog? Thanks. Something every girl likes hearing."

"You're like a King Charles' spaniel, it's a compliment." But he couldn't say anymore, because I was kissing him again.


End file.
